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LIFE, SEUYICES, AND ClIARACTEll 



OF 



EDWARD EVERETT: 



% BtxxixQn 



PREACHED IN THE FHIST CHURCH, JAN. 22, 18G5. 



BY RUFUS ELLIS, 

MINISTER OF THK KIHST f IIlUrH. 



irnUi) an gippcntiii, 



CONTAININO 

Thk Action of First Church on the Occasion of the Death ok Mr. Everett, 

AND THE Address ok the Pastor at the Public Funeral, 

Thursday, the 19rH of January. 



BOSTON: 

PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON 
1865. 

■7> 







EDWARD EVERETT. 

BoRS 11th April, mdccxciv. 
Died 15th January, mdccclxv. 



S E R M N. 



Psalm viii. 5. — "And hast crowned him with gloky and honor." 

There is an exaltation of man, wliich is a forgetting 
of God. Born of irreverence and of folly, it can issue 
only in mischief. What is the ray without the sun 1 
what is the branch without the vine ] what is the 
creature without the Creator ? what is the Son with- 
out the Father? — God's image, when God himself is 
withdrawn 1 I need not say that this is not the spirit 
of the Psalmist. He is celebrating the Divine Majesty, 
the nightly heavens, with the moon and stars which God 
has ordained ; and, at first, in the presence of such sub- 
limities, his soul is overawed, and man seems to him 
utterly insignificant : but soon he takes courage, with 
looking, it may be, upon a fair and noble fiice, or upon 
some form of majesty and beauty, and the being w^hich 
he had almost been ready to despise becomes radiant 
wdth divine light, — a splendid illustration of the power 
and love which pervade the world, and are best mani- 
fested in the mind and heart and bodv of man. 

The words of the Psalm are strong beyond our Eng- 
lish rendering of them. " Thou hast made hhn," we 
read, " a little lower than the angels ; " but the Psalmist 



sang, '• A little lower ilian God^ And, from first to 
last, the Bible speaks very bravely, and, if it were not 
the Bible, there are those who would say, with a certain 
audacity, of man. He is made in the image of God ; 
he is not merely a creature, but a son of God ; his na- 
ture and his capacity supplying the ground for that stern 
and persistent arraignment of him as a sinner, which 
makes the book so solemn ; for that steady prophecy of 
his redemption, which, as a line of light, threads the 
pages of Scripture, and makes them one, from Genesis 
to Eevelation. 

There is a revering and religious study of human 
nature and human character. The Eternal Light is 
not yet revealed, save in symbols and types, until it 
becomes the life of men. When dust w^as fashioned 
into man ; when, in the fulness of the times, after those 
long and w^eary though needful ages, whose record of 
vegetable and animal existences is w^ritten only on the 
rocks, man became a living soul, with speech for God 
and speech for his fellows, and knowledge and love and 
peace and the hope of immortality all infolded in his 
wondrous being, looking upward, looking forward, the 
w^orld's high priest, heaven's prophet from the first, — 
lo, at length the true light, an imperishable being 
in a perishing form ! 

Nature reveals God, but only to the soul of man. 
Only so much of that mystery as is already written 
ujjon our minds and hearts are we able to decipher, 
lentil the great astronomers come, there is no true 
celestial mechanism for man. God tells his thought 
to a favored soul, and then we find it in the universe, 



and praise the Creators wisdom, wrought into his 
works, — the crystal, the sunbeam, the sun. And the 
mind of man brings to hght no wonder so wondrous 
as the mind itself, though it were the humblest human 
intelligence. " Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings 
Thou hast 2^^rfected praise:' The argument for the 
divine attributes is radically incomplete until our own 
being has testified. " Doth God care for oxen ? " asks 
the earnest apostle to the Gentiles. Nay, it is upon 
man that he expends himself ; no creature between 
God and man is the teaching of the highest rehgion, 
the mystery of ages and generations, the revealed fact 
of the gospel ; and when we speak m the truest and 
highest strains, I do not say of what man is, but of what 
he was created to become, it may seem to the world that 
the good matter which we are inditing is a Messianic 
Psalm, though indeed we have regard only to our com- 
mon humanity. How this humanity, even in its ruins, 
witnesses for God, — reason, conscience, aspiration, 
affection, marvellous even then, — how indestructible is 
the moral nature ! how ineffaceable the moral image ! 

And thus far in the divine providence there have 
always been those to w4iom He has given most abun- 
dantly of the gifts which He denies altogether to none. 
He groups his children about one and another son of 
man. His revelations are through persons, his teachings 
through examples ; and, to our great joy and edification. 
He places before us those w^hom we can revere and 
love. There are w^ho tell us, that the age of great men 
is passed, and that we must reconcile ourselves hence- 
forth to ages of mediocrity, as to a new divine order ; 



that, at all events, by lifting up, if not by dragging 
down, we shall all find one level, — it maybe a very 
high one. Now, let us lift up men all we can ; let us try 
to instruct and inspire them unto individual manhood ; 
let us beUeve also, that, where princes fail us, there will 
be a certain mind and heart of the whole people, which, 
under the divine providence, shall devise and execute 
great things : and yet may God still grant us princes, 
heroes, giants, — crowning a portion of the sons of men 
with slorv and honor ! We do not want an earth with- 
out mountains, — a dead level w ith no peaks towering 
to heaven to welcome the morning splendor, to detain 
the lingering ray. The words, " Let us now ^jraise 
famous men,'' are written in the Apocrypha ; but they 
are good scripture nevertheless. There must be some 
w^ho are like cities set upon a hill. Toyalty needs to be 
guided, not eradicated. There is a grain of truth even 
in the Romish superstition of saint-worship. We want 
persons, not abstractions ; examx^les, not precepts ; truth 
incarnate, the body and the blood, the human word and 
w^ork, all the way onw^ard and upward, from the hum- 
blest of earth's children, through sages, seers, prophets, 
apostles, to that Express Image of the Divine Person, 
who, to meet this necessity of our being, was found in 
fashion as a man, bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh. 
Need I say, in this connection, that the highest ex- 
amples are instances of truth and love 1 and that, for 
this reason, the lowliest life may be more significant 
than the most exalted, the widow with her mite more 
than all the rich devotees of Jerusalem ? Whenever a 
singular fidelity does get before the world, from some 



hiding-place of love, it accomplishes a huge work ; but 
we must remember that in the providence of God this 
is not often the case, because, doubtless for some good 
end, He hides away his most splendid jewels, to bring 
them forth in the great day. Some of the grandest 
and sweetest moral qualities are of too private and 
domestic a character to be greatly useful as examples ; 
but, though the unknown good are hidden from us, God 
makes their graves as He made the grave of Moses, and 
their names are written upon the palms of his hands 
who knoweth all souls, and gathers about his throne 
alike the small and the great. Let the preacher use 
such examples of the humble, so far as he may be able, 
remembering Him who is no respecter of persons ; and 
let him not fail to testify out of his wide observation 
to the strength which is made perfect in weakness, and 
that some of the highest seats in heaven shall be filled 
by the lowliest of earth. jNevertheless, in order that a 
life may impress itself upon the world, it must be pro- 
jected in grand proportions ; it must stand forth of 
itself ; and it must not be needful for us to set upon a 
pedestal of our own making, the figure towards which 
we would turn the eyes of men : indeed, their gaze 
must already have been arrested and occupied, or the 
words that we may speak will have no power to detain 
them. The illustration must demand its sermon ; not 
the sermon its illustration, iind so even in the house 
of God, and on his day who is King of all the earth, 
not through might, not through wisdom, but simply 
through an omnipotent love, we must praise famous 
men, — those who have been crowned, in very high 



8 



degrees, with the glory and honor that are from God. 
They may be representative even when they are not 
exemplary ; tliey may praise God even when they mean 
not so, and are not truly wise ; as, alas ! is the case with 
so many, that we can hardly be thankful enough when 
power and love meet together to complete a human 
being, and wc find that our poet, artist, orator, states- 
man, was a good man. 

.My friends, I must try this morning to interpret and 
to fix the impression of a life which, in the providence 
of God, has been crowned with glory and honor before 
our own eyes. On the last Lord's Day, I spoke to you 
with such words as my grief left me, of a seat never 
unoccupied, save for a sufficient cause, — I said to you, 
Edward Everett is no more ! You already knew 
what I tried to tell : tidings so mournful need no herald. 
Not our city alone, his own city ; not our State alone, 
his own State, — but the whole Nation has mourned for 
him as nations do not always mourn for rulers ; even as 
of old " the children of Israel wept for Moses m the 
plains of Moab thirty days." I need not remind you of 
the touching events of the past week. The air still vi- 
brates with that sad and solemn music ; I hear it still, 
as when that sacred earth sank through the white robe 
of snow down into its kindred earth. I need not tell 
you how old and young, people of all classes and condi- 
tiuus, came forth, on that nineteenth day of the month, 
to follow all that was mortal of their great citizen to his 
grave. It was good to move in that solemn procession, 
and yet so hard to come back to home, to church, as on 
this day. and look in vain, and with eyes wondering as 



9 

well as sad, for the vanished form. But though we 
scarcely know how to reconcile ourselves to our loss, in 
a day which is not famed for great men, we will take 
up, as we may be able, the parable of his life. Happily 
for me, it does not need to be illuminated by the hand 
of genius. 

Edward Everett was born in the neighboring town of 
Dorchester, on the eleventh day of April, 1794; and 
when, before the dawn of the last Lord's day, the 15th 
of January, he breathed his last, nine months and four 
days had been added to his threescore years and ten. 
He was the third son and fourth child of the Rev. Oliver 
Everett, who had been pastor of the church on Church 
Green, in this city, for a little more than ten years, until 
the 27th of May, 1792, when, on account of insufficient 
health, he resigned his charge, and removed to Dorches- 
ter. I cannot, in this short hour, undertake to relate 
with any minuteness the story of this life, whose be- 
ginning and whose earthly ending I have set before 
you. I shall best secure the practical end which alone 
I propose, by passing rapidly from point to point of a 
career of which it would be hard to say, whether it Avas 
more distinguished by variety, and a certain encyclo- 
paedic character, than by the beautiful finish of each 
part. The tradition of his brig-ht bovhood is still livin«r 
and fresh. They say that he wore a sober look, but 
kept a merry heart, — a certain playfulness, which, as 
his nearest friends will tell you, never forsook him to 
the last. If you will run your eye down the list of our 
medal scholars, you will find his name amongst the bovs 

of what was called the North School in the year 1804, 

2 



10 



iiiid on the record of the Latin School in the year 1806. 
You might have seen him also, during the former of 
these years, at a school in what, until quite lately, was 
calfed Short Street, now the lower part of Kingston 
Street, where, for a little while, he was a pupil of Dan- 
iel Webster. The spot is scarcely more than a stone's 
throw from this house. His preparation for college 
was finished at Exeter Academy ; and he became an 
undergraduate of Harvard in 1807. I met, on the day 
of his funeral, one of his classmates, who eagerly asked 
me to secure for him, in some way, a place in the 
church ; and he spoke, with an enthusiasm which age 
had not chilled, of the boy whom he recalled as they 
gathered in the college-yard for the usual examination, 

— his curls clustering about his fair brow ; the broad 
white collar turned back upon his shoulders ; every thing 
about him boylike, except his mind, and the light by 
which it beamed through his eyes, and the. plastic power 
by which it moulded his fine, classic face, — a boy to be 
heard from. Nay, in his case, prophecy became history 
almost as soon as it was uttered ; and, even in my day, 
one of the first things they told you of Cambridge was 
the story of that marvellous young scholar, a graduate 
at seventeen, and reading at eighteen to the chief lit- 
erary society of the University a striking poem, written 
a year before. 

Pass on a little, and you might have found him, 
perhaps some of you did find him, in this very church 

— I wish it had never been altered, the old was bet- 
ter — on the 21st of October, 1814, delivering an 
address at the funeral of llev. John Lovejoy Abbot, 



11 



who was for a short time pastor of this religious soci- 
ety. The audience will tell you that the speaker is 
the minister of the church in Brattle Square, our sister 
church, as the phrase was then. I have that address, 
and, though not ordinarily curious in pamphlets, I shall 
keep it. I find that Mr. Everett preached as a candi- 
date to the society which I have just referred to, on the 
10th of December, 1813 ; was ordained on the 9th of 
February, 1814; and that he relinquished the place on 
the 5th of March, 1815 : a parochial ministry of only 
thirteen months, — brief episode, — sounding, when the 
elders tell us of it, almost like a dream in a life destined 
to be secular in its works, whilst conscientious and rev- 
erential in its aims ; and yet to come back at last, as to 
a first love, deepened, enlarged, uplifted, — to come back 
in spirit, if not in form, to the gospel's richest words, his 
last public utterances. 

The preacher is again a student, now, at a foreign 
university : a traveller also beyond the seas, journeying 
even to Greece, seeking for the beautiful in nature and 
in art, for men of letters and science, preparing for a 
brilliant university career as professor of the world's 
richest language and literature. Mr. Everett's work 
and fame, as a lecturer upon Grecian learning and art, 
would have been work and fame enough for many men 
who are accounted diligent and ambitious ; but a way 
was to be opened for him into a larger world than Cam- 
bridge and Boston supplied. In 1824, he took his place 
before a delighted ■ community as a great master of elo- 
quence. The occasion was a meeting of the Phi Beta 
Kappa Society of Harvard College ; the inspiration was 



/ 



12 

the presence of La Fayette ; and the result was a rhetori- 
cal triumph, of which each succeeding effort has been 
almost, if not altogether, a repetition. He struck then 
the key-note of his life. 

We find him next, no longer professor, but legislator 
in our Nation's Congress ; and the work comes to him, 
as it is very hkely to come to men who have brains and 
hands and tools, and are willing to use them ; the work, 
though not always the wages ; and he finds time also — 
he had more of that than most men — to labor for the 
literature of a country, always so dear to him, as a con- 
tributor to the " North-American Review," of which he 
had been during some four years editor. In Congress, 
at this period, he was most honorably known for his 
exertions in behalf of the American Indians, the treat- 
ment of whom must be sadly reckoned amongst the 
great national sins of which w^e have never repented, 
and in which, I fear, we are still deeply involved. 
. Ten years of congressional duty having been com- 
pleted, the next four years are given to the governorship 
of our Commonwealth ; and, during that period, our 
State gained the great iron highway which binds the 
Hudson River to the Atlantic, the Board of Education, 
Normal Schools, scientific and agricultural surveys, and 
the movement towards a revision of the criminal law. 
He lost his election as governor, at last, by only one 
vote, and that, I am proud to say, on account of his 
zeal in the cause of temperance. But less than two 
years of comparative rest intervened between this term 
of honorable service and his establishment as our min- 
ister at the Court of St. James ; that, technically and^ 



13 

truly, and to good purpose ; but also, as the noble and 
much -honored representative of American culture in 
our mother-land. A few years more, and the ambas- 
sador is again in the midst of us, the head of our 
ancient university, — a position which proved less satis- 
factory to him than might have been expected, partly 
because the office, in that day at least, involved much 
routine work and police service, which must have been 
especially burdensome to a man who must do the least 
thing as thoroughly as the greatest. Scholar though 
he was, in every drop of his blood, he must have felt 
a deep sense of relief in escaping from that dignified 
drudgery, — that mediaeval and monastic life, — to find 
himself presently our national secretary of state, and 
directly thereupon one of our United-States senators. 
His Cuban letter, and his speech upon the aff"airs of 
Central America, belong to this period, and are splendid 
monuments to his statesmanslilp. I use the word de- 
liberately, because some have questioned his claim to 
this quality. Failing health drove him from his post 
at Washington ; but we soon find him again restored, 
and in the harness, his desire, perhaps we can hardly 
say his hope, being to rekindle the fires of patriotism 
through the length and breadth of our land, and to re- 
store the old landmarks, by reviving a fresh enthusiasm 
for the Father of our Country. You know the success 
— a success only rivalled by himself — which attended 
that grand movement, dating from the 2 2d of Feb- 
ruary, 1856, — I had not thought it was so long ago, 
and how truly, from that day forward, Mr. Everett has 
been spending his strength, or building himself up from 



14 



weakness and weariness, in the service of his country : 
striving at first to avert the catastrophe, which, beyond 
most of us here, and against the impressions of many of 
us here, he knew to be impending, and, when the fatal 
hour struck, losing not a moment to spring like a true 
soldier to his post, ready to do battle for the Govern- 
ment against all comers, though they were old friends. 
Glorious last years ! Let them control the interpre- 
tation of whatsoever in the past may have offended 
or perplexed any. The expounders of Scripture say, 
that we must follow, in our exposition, what they call 
the analogy of Scripture, and let one part limit the rest. 
Let these last illumined scriptures be our guide, and in- 
terpret for us the entire record of our friend. Read, 
too, in this connection, the oration pronounced at Cam- 
bridge, on the 26tli of August, 18'2-i. Let the orator 
remind you again, that " no strongly marked and high- 
toned literature, poetry, eloquence, or philosophy ever 
appeared, but under the pressure of great interests, 
great enterprises, perilous risks, and dazzling rewards. 
Statesmen and warriors and poets and orators and 
artists start up under one and the same excitement. 
Thev are all branches of one stock. ... It is as truly 
tlic sentiment of the student in the recesses of his cell, 
as of the soldier in the ranks, which breathes in the 
exclamation, — 

' To all the sons of sense proclaim, 
One glorious hour of cromhd life 
Is worth an age without a name.' " 

What a grand illustration of the speaker's words 
is siii)plied by his own utterances, during these four 



15 

troubled years ; by his admirable expositions of the 
right and wrong in our great struggle ; by his most 
successful efforts to justify to the world a conflict so 
terrible ; by his masterly and tender pleas for justice 
to the sufferers, for charity towards the erring, for the 
good which alone overcomes evil ! We can hardly 
speak extravagantly of the service which he has ren- 
dered to our country in these years. His words were 
weighty. He spoke not as a politician or partisan or 
office-holder, but as a citizen whose public services and 
liiah character entitled him to be heard. He under- 
stood, as few men did, the thoughts and feelings of both 
parties in this contest. May we not apply to him what 
Merivale, in his " History of the Romans under the 
Empire," tehs us of Cicero, that "he really swayed 
the commonwealth, not by the splendor of office or the 
terror of the impcrium, but by the influence of his 
character and the charm of his genius " ] He was mag- 
nanimous enough to admit, that he had been too much 
inclined to concessions and compromises. Let us hope 
that this magnanimity will find its counterpart in the 
hearty admission, on the part of all who have ever 
questioned it, that he was thoroughly conscientious in 
his fears as to the inevitable results of the agitations of 
the last twenty years, and that he understood the tem- 
per and plans of the South better than the majority of 
persons at the North. I may be permitted to allude, in 
this connection, to an interview which I had with him 
as the time drew near for the execution of John Brown. 
I had inquired of him about the possibility of his ob- 
taining a commutation of Brown's sentence, simply as a 



.6 



matter of public policy ; leaving out of sight the ques- 
tion, whether the convicted man should be regarded as 
a criminal or an enthusiast. He had already thought 
deeply and tenderly of the matter ; " but," said he, " it 
is impossible : the Southern people would suffer nothing 
of the kind at the hands of their governors ; few men 
here understand the condition of excitement which pre- 
vails there ; few men there understand the agitation 
here ; and, if any one simply describes things as they 
are, he is called timid, and his word is criticised as be- 
neath the demands of the hour." Time has proved that 
he spake as one who knew. You know the last : the 
eloquence of love and pity that clothed the lips for 
which death was already preparing his fatal seal ; the 
gospel light that beamed from the eyes that were soon 
to be closed for ever; and that, Avhen the final summons 
came, he was found clothed in the strong and beautiful 
armor of his Lord. 

I have necessarily told but the least part of my story. 
I have crossed no threshold. I cannot do so, were it 
only out of regard to that exceeding sensitiveness of our 
friend, which never allowed him to bring much into the 
outer world what was dearest and holiest, a sensitive- 
ness which was sometimes mistaken for coldness. But, 
even without this partial and feeble showing, I should 
be entitled to ask those before whose eyes he has lived 
his lon^ life, whether there is not very much here to be 
thankful for, and very much to take example from. 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, and comes 
from I Tim who crowns us with glory and honor; and 
here was a marvellously gifted man. To move the 



17 

world in which he lived, by the living, spoken word, — 
that, so it seems to me, was his calling-, pnrsued from 
boyhood to age ; and he was nobly furnished forth to 
discharge it. He was capable of much else ; much else 
he did admirably : but this was his special function 
amongst men. His intellect was vigorous, various, 
judicial, and judicious too, singularly discerning of the 
boundaries beyond which, in things secular or sacred, 
useful knowledge becomes useless, and wise thoughts 
become guesses and speculations ; his imagination was 
at once active and chastened ; his memory almost a 
miracle, both for its quickness and its retentiveness ; 
" his doctrine dropped like rain, his speech distilled like 
the dew ; " his voice was low and sweet, his presence 
winning and commanding. Only yesterday, one told me 
of the impression which his spoken word, of which she 
did not comprehend a letter, made upon her, when, as 
a very little child, she looked up into his youthful face 
from one of those pews. We are apt, through some 
strange fallacy, to think of fine speakers as of persons 
who have not much to say ; their flowers without stems, 
their branches without stock and root, their " sheeny 
vans " bearing up and bearing on little more than 
nothingness. Because the solid are often very dull, 
we conclude that those who certainly are not dull can- 
not be solid. And, if you turn to the orations of Mr. 
Everett, you will not, indeed, find yourself carried be- 
yond your depth and his ; you will not find metaphysical 
puzzles, or sayings too hard for a mere hearer to com- 
prehend : but you will find the soundest sense set to 
the sweetest music, abundant and various thought, a 



18 



plenitude of facts, always pertinent, always exact, — you 
Avill wonder whence they all came. When common 
things must be said, as they often must be, they are said 
in a plain way. We are not carried about, hither and 
thither, to find at last only what might have been shown 
us at first, — English wisdom and knowledge, with a 
musical utterance to which the stammering Englishman 
seldom attains ! Not an explorer, discoverer, pioneer, 
certainly, in the realms of thought ; too various, versa- 
tile, many-sided, to be that, he has yet deserved, what so 
many have in our country without deserving, the praise 
of high and thorough scholarship, — scholarship that 
would have been, and has been, recognized abroad as 
well as at home : and, as I have already intimated, he 
won, during the few short months of his secretaryship, 
the well-merited reputation of a vigorous originality, 
and gave to the nation a diplomatic word Avhich is des- 
tined to be very serviceable in time to come. Until the 
last years, rather a fascinating than a thrilling orator, 
he nevertheless carried his point when there was a 
point to be carried : so, conspicuously, in the Mount- 
Vernon enterprise, in his great charity addresses, in his 
effort for the people of East Tennessee ; in his masterly 
war sermons, in which mercy and truth meet together ; 
in that last appeal, which shall prove eff'ectual in so 
many ways, — though we dare not think of the cost, 
and that his hfe went with the gift. He seems not to 
have been so well fitted for debate, and for the collisions 
of party politics. He did not like to take blows, and 
liked still less to give them. He could not bear to be 
assailed in ])ublic ; and this was not strange, when the 



19 

assailant was one who was swift beyond the rest to 
commend his word in private. He could not avoid 
seeing the other side, even when it made him a poor 
advocate of his own. Tlie new evils which his cantion, 
and knowledge of the world's history, compelled him to 
anticipate, made him tolerant — over -tolerant, I think 
— of old mischiefs ; bnt when, in the marvellous provi- 
dence of God, it had become plain to him that country, 
liberty, humanity, were at stake in an elemental struggle, 
then, leaving it for others to make out his consistency, 
and to interpret old words, and to explain him to old 
friends, — believing that death and life were set before 
him and his, he chose life: and he shall live in the 
new life of our land, wearing, amongst the foremost, 
the crown of glory and honor. Let us thank the gra- 
cious Giver, who so endowed, — the mighty Helper, 
who so strengthened him. 

I said that, with much to be thankful for, there was 
also much to take example from, in this life. There are 
those who, forasmuch as God is good and helpful, suffer 
Him to do for them abundantly, in all ways save in that 
high Avay by which He would make them workers with 
Him, and sufferers with his Son. Living indolent and 
self-indulgent lives, they may be wonders, but they are 
not examples ; oftener, they are only beacons to warn us 
lest we make shipwreck. Mr. Everett was emphatically 
a worker, — a man of iron industry; I should say, one of 
the most persistent and thorough men that ever wrought. 
Doubtless he had great powers ; but he used them, — I 
fear that he over-used them. No slenderly endowed 
but ambitious student M^as ever more laborious than he. 



20 



and, of course, his great faculty was always growing 
greater. Industry was a part of his genius, and the 
best part, as it ever is. There was something quite ad- 
mirable in the methodical diligence which enabled him 
to be complete in the smallest matters ; in the hand- 
writing, for example, of a note to a friend as much as 
in the rounding of a period : even as the little flower 
goes forth perfect as the mighty planet, from the crea- 
tive hand. Compare the discourse preached in this 
church, to which I have referred, with the oration de- 
livered ten years later, and you will see how the young 
man had grown, as young men do not grow who scoif 
at the diligent, and content themselves with a boy's 
fame, and with the fruits that can be gathered by those 
who only stir the surface of a rich soil, and never lay 
their hands to the plough, day by day, to drive the share 
deep and give the ground no rest. What he found to 
do, he did with his might. Was it a humble work ] It 
did not matter : it was well done. You may not have 
noticed, that some of the books used in our over-praised 
schools seem to have been written to puzzle and mis- 
lead the pupils. Mr. Everett found this out, and might 
often have been seen, in his home, doing the work of a 
primary-school teacher ; and I am sure that it was never 
better done. I love to dwell upon this thoroughness, 
because the world is so full of ragged work, and raw 
edges, and lame performances ; because, in our hurried 
way of life, small things are so much neglected, and 
that by those who have only the shadow of greatness 
for their excuse. T call him o-reat in a serviceable and 
human way ; his greatness, of a kind to be followed ; a 
leader, and yet not out of sight and reach. 



21 



And what was given to him as truth, he translated 
into life. It was a good and living and growing tree, 
and it brought forth rich fruit ! Conscience, faith, 
hope, love, were in him, and went forth from him. 
Conscience was in him, and he obeyed that monitor. 
I am not compelled to seek apologies, to-day, for a 
areat bad man. He ceased to be a Christian minister ; 
but he did not cease to be a Christian man. AVhat 
political assailant ever dared to deny, by so much as 
a hint, that his life was exemplary and sweet ? His 
moral quality was so excellent, that he can afford to 
have the truth told about him. Even those who may 
express the wish that he had manifested, his life long, 
the outspoken bravery of these last years, will see rea- 
son to admit that he was far more conscientious in his 
caution, which was constitutional, and in his seeming 
timidity, which was an exceeding physical sensitiveness, 
than many who found fault with him. The event has 
proved that he foreknew more than his critics, and, ac- 
cordingly, having foreseen the evil, as they did not, was 
better prepared to meet it than they were. It is a note- 
worthy fact that the man who was thought by some to 
be so over-cautious before our war began, never spoke 
of it doubtingly — no, not in a solitary instance — after 
that time ; was never found to vacillate between cheer- 
ing or desponding utterances, as the tide of battle 
surged this way or that, as some who had been brave 
talkers did. Does not this show that he had taken high 
counsel all alons^ 1 I am told that after the first S'veht 
disaster of the war, the battle at Bull Run, he read 
through the disheartenino- and disgraceful details care- 



9'> 



fully, quietly, and laid aside the sheet with the simple 
ejaculation, " The Lord reigncth ! " 

Faith, too, was in him : so much of it, that his vig- 
orous intellect confessed, that, of things hoped for, this 
must be the substance, — that of things not seen, 
this must be tlic evidence. He could not abide men 
who came resolving mysteries. He lived in trust, not 
stirring much the highest themes : believing that trees 
thrive best when their roots are not bared to the ele- 
ments, and to the rough tread of the husbandman, he 
did not love to translate beliefs into opinions, religion 
into theology, or willingly set himself to discuss themes 
that are so much hidden ; he disliked novelties in re- 
ligion, and preferred the light of the stars to any 
meteoric splendors ; old paths, old truths, old prayers, 
old hymns, old tunes, were very dear to him ; he was 
a genuine New-Englander, and yet had none of that 
New-England shamefacedness — the result, perhaps, of 
a re-action against Puritanism — which hinders so many 
noble men — pity that it should ! — from saying their 
prayers in their families, or from coming to the table of 
the Holy Communion. He believed in public worship. 
T hope that I do not violate any sanctuary privilege, in 
reading to you a very few lines from a note, touching 
this matter, which he was so kind as to address to me : 
" There is no w^eather, in this climate, which furnishes 
a decent excuse for a man in health, living as near as I 
do to the church, for absenting himself. But I wish no 
excuse, as I go from inclination. Two short seasons in 
the week, for tlie brain to rest, is very little. The time 
spent in the church is pleasantly and profitably passed." 



23 



An old-fashioned worshipper, truly ; one who was will- 
ing in the house of God to rest his brain, and to uplift 
his heart ! For that twice coming of his, Avhich you 
know to have been habitual, I am more grateful than I 
can tell you. I am glad that the second service lasted 
as long as he had need of it ; I hope it will last out my 
time, though it will revive the sense of our loss to come 
here, and look in vain for one who never failed us. 

Hope and love, too, were in him : hope for the 
world, — you will find it everywhere in his speeches ; 
love which, at home, was most devoted and habitual, and 
which went forth, in every good cause, seeking to in- 
spire efforts for social improvement, — for the elevation, 
in all ways, of the plane of man s life. As his voice 
was ready to plead for charities, so his hand was open 
to bestow them, and that in quiet and undemonstrative, 
as well as public ways. 

But I must come to an end : the speaker, though not 
the theme, may well have become ere this a weariness 
to you. Three short weeks ago, we were gathered to 
ask what the New Year might have of mercies or of 
trials, and how the hoping or anxious heart might best 
stay upon God. He was with us then. One sorest trial 
has already come, and in an hour when we looked not 
for it. The land mourns. It has no great men to lose ; 
none who, being able and willing to do justice to all, 
can, in the end, make even their enemies to be at peace 
with them. The church mourns ; for the church, also, 
has none to lose : it is at best, in these days, but a little 
flock, and can ill spare such a one from its fold. I 
will not pretend that the burden of this sorrow has yet 



24 

been lifted from my heart ; nay, I think that we shall 
all come to feel it more and more. And yet I know 
that God is good, and that great and small go forth 
only at his word, and that we had no right to look for 
more service from one who had already filled the days 
— yes, the hours — of more than half a century with 
labors. I can almost hear him saying to us, in the 
words of the old Book which he loved : '' I go the way 
of all the earth ; he thou strong, therefore, and shotv thj- 
self a man ! " — a man to serve thy country, to minister 
unto thy fellows, to stir up the gift that is in thee, to do 
justly and love mercy, to improve the passing moment 
which is thine, to be faithful in small things as in great, 
to follow Christ, to worship God. Let us be still, — 
that, in the stillness which the Lord hath made, we may 
hear the word of this solemn hour, and it shall not be 
all loss to us, that he who was crowned with glory and 
honor on earth, has been crowned, as we trust, with 
immortality in heaven. 



25 



APPENDIX. 



ADDRESS. 

We are on our way to commit to the earth all that was 
mortal of a great and good and justly famous man ; a man so 
great, so good, so famous, that the honors decreed for him by 
the head of the nation will be most gratefully rendered, and 
that to the very letter of the decree, " at home and abroad, 
wherever the national name and authority are recognized." 
We have paused for a few moments, and laid down our bur- 
den within these consecrated walls, — so familiar and dear to 
him who has gone from us, — that we may acknowledge the 
Giver of Life, the Father of him who is the resurrection and 
the life, the best and the only comforter. It is for this that 
we are here ; believing that our burden will be lightened, for 
hands which are so ready to hang down, if only we can 
obtain help from God. 

And yet, before we seek the refuge of prayer, in the name 
and the faith of Christ, a word must be spoken to this great 
company — a word from heart to heart — of him whom you 
revered and admired and loved ; for I am sure that the most 
halting speech, so it be sincere, will do more justice than 
silence to the spirit of this hour, so solemn and yet so rich in 
memories and in hopes. In these few and swiftly-passing 
moments, I cannot tell the story of this grandly completed 
life, as full of works as of days, from its boyhood, mature as 
manhood, to its age, vigorous as youth. I may not attempt 

4 



26 



any analysis of this fine intellect, or try to explore with you 
the hiding-places of this great power. I shall undertake no 
delineation of a character which was always most admired by 
those who were brought nearest to it ; and which, like some 
of the works of the most conscientious artists, was most 
finished where it made the least show. We are on our way 
to a grave, and our words must be few, and they may be 
very simple ; for, uppermost in our minds and abounding in 
our hearts, are proud and grateful thoughts of the departed, 
which the tongue of the most unlettered might tell. 

What is it, friends, that has made this man so very dear to 
the people ? I do not say to scholars, to the few, but to the 
people ; yea, their foremost citizen in these times, when God 
has made " a man more precious than fine gold, even a man 
than the golden wedge of Ophir." Why is the announce- 
ment of his sudden death by the President of the United 
States only the utterance of a nation's sorrowing heart ? I 
answer, — you answer, — not merely because he was your 
scholar, and a ripe and good one ; not merely because he was 
your orator, — one of the most eloquent and instructive ot 
men, your chief speaker for every grand and good occasion ; 
not merely because of his life-long service to letters and to 
the education of the people ; not merely because of his labors 
for the State, at home and abroad, in ordinary times, honor- 
able, admirable as he ever was in these things ; but because, 
in the hour of sore trial, and when the nation's very life hung 
in the balance, and patriotism was something more than an 
idle word for the trifler to ring changes upon, he has proved 
himself to be, first, last, only, and altogether, a patriot, — an 
American indeed in whom was no guile, resolved, at all costs 
to himself of old friendships, if need be, of old prejudices, our 
costliest possessions, to do his whole duty to the land and the 
people of his afi"ections, as to the mother that bore him and 
nourished him, and led him up to his grand and serviceable 



27 



manhood. I mean no disparagement of former services ; nay, 
where some might criticise, I should justify ; and yet, on this 
day of his solemn burial, I say honor to this large, this regal 
soul, which could not sacrifice itself to obsolete ideas, or go 
about with the dead burying their dead, or crush the throb- 
bing life of to-day under any old traditions : honor to him 
who could see that old principles may demand new methods, 
and that the wisdom of yesterday may be the folly of to-day. 
During these grand historic years, — years in which many an 
hour has been worth whole months of commonplace exist- 
ence, — with the rest of the nation, he has been passing 
through the refiner's fire ; and you have found, dear friends, 
to your joy, — for nothing refreshes and delights us so much 
as to be able to reverence and admire and love, — you have 
found that the finest gold was in him ; that he was more than 
your great scholar, more than your great orator, more than 
your trusted statesman and diplomatist ; that he was your 
great citizen and your brother-man, your country his coun- 
try, your political faith his political faith, — not a man to 
babble garrulously of foreign despotisms, but a lover and a 
servant of our republican institutions ; his heart throbbing 
with your hearts, and alive with sacred national memories, 
and precious hopes for humanity sighing to be uplifted and 
redeemed. How manly, how consistent, how steadfast, how 
unwearied, has he been, in all his glorious speaking and 
doing, from the first moment when our nation's life was 
assailed, to that day so fatal to us, but so honorable to him, 
when, weighed down as he was by sickness, and already 
entering into the deatii-shadow, he asked help in such elo- 
quent words for those who, as we hope, are ceasing to be our 
enemies, in the name of that holy and sweet charity which 
St. Paul, inspired by our Lord, hath taught us, saying, " If 
thine enemy hunger, feed him." So he took up, in the time 
of his age, and for his last public act, the sacred office which 



28 



he had laid down in youth, and was found at the last a gospel 
preacher. When the history of our nation's regeneration 
shall be written, — and it will be an illuminated record ; when 
victory and peace, which are as sure to be ours as that the 
sun burns in the heavens, shall be the reward of patient 
struggle, — no name shall shine out more brightly upon the 
page, or be pronounced more thankfully by the lips, than the 
name of him for whom we both rejoice and mourn to-day. In 
these last great years, we have seen the beauty, we have 
breathed in the fragrance, of the fair, consummate flower of a 
noble plant. Never has the bright sun of his life shone with 
such refulgent brightness as when it neared the setting, but 
was even more a giant than when it climbed the morning sky. 
And all this strength was blended with so much gentleness, 
all this earnest speech was so free from bitterness and wrath, 
all this public virtue was bound up with so much private 
worth and household love and Christian faith ! Alas that 
his day must needs come ! Strange, when so many only 
cumber the earth, and eat and drink, but do 7wt die to-mor- 
row ! Alas ! that we are here and without him, with only 
this sacred dust, — precious, indeed, in our sight, and to be 
borne away most tenderly, and yet so sadly reminding us 
that himself is gone. Alas ! for our necessity is still so 
great, and our counsellor was so wise and so noble, so pru- 
dent and so charitable, so thoroughly furnished for the hour. 
Would, we say, that God, who hath an eternity to give from, 
had given more time to him who knew so well how to redeem 
time ! And yet, my friends, who are we that we should 
reply against God ? and hath the Christ been so long time 
with us, and have we not yet learned to trust utterly in tlie 
Divine Providence, — in Him that taketh away, as well as in 
Him that giveth ; in Him who said by the lips of his own dear 
Son, " Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it 
abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit"? 



29 



Let us rather give thanks for tlie life in the light of which 
we have lived, and which God hath crowned with glory and 
honor and immortality, for its years of devotion to the things 
w^hich are highest and holiest: stricken, bereaved, let us bow 
reverently and submissively to the Divine decree, and have 
no will but that Will which is for ever Love : let us have faith 
that, with His blessing who appoints for us our works and 
our days, and meteth out our span with an unerring wisdom, 
there shall come forth life from this death, beauty from these 
ashes, life and beauty for earth as well as for heaven. Being 
dead, he doth yet speak to us, if only we have open ears, 
more eloquently than even he, worthy to be named with the 
most famous masters of speech since the world began, could 
speak to us, being yet alive. But why do I say, " being 
dead " ? seeing that the righteous live for evermore, seeing 
that their reward is with the Lord, and the care of them with 
the most High ; and that, below and above, He giveth to them 
a beautiful kingdom, and a glorious crown, and an abiding 
ministry. Honor to the dead ! and what fitter honor can we 
pay to the dead than by consecrating ourselves, about these 
remains, to that dear country, whose holy cause he who is 
gone can plead no longer, in the name of Humanity, of Christ, 
of God ? to whom, in death and in life, be glory for ever and 
ever ! Amen. 



A meeting of the Standing Committee of the First Church 
was held at the office of Messrs. J. E. Thayer and Brother, 
on Monday, the sixteenth day of January, 18G5. 

The Chairman, Thomas B. Wales, Esq., with appropriate 
remarks, announced the recent decease of the Hon. Edward 
Everett. 

On motion of N. Thayer, Esq., it was — 



30 



Voted, That Messrs. G. W. Messinger and S. L. Abbot be, 
and hereby are, requested to draw up resolutions expressive 
of the sorrow of this Committee for the decease of their late 
valued friend and fellow-worshipper, Edward Everett, and 
report the same at an adjourned meeting of this Committee. 

On motion of G. "W. Messinger, Esq., it was — 

Voted, That the Clerk be, and hereby is, directed to invite 
Messrs. J. Putnam Bradlee, Turner Sargent, Edward Austin, 
George W. Wales, Edward Frothingham, Samuel H. Gookin, 
George 0. Shattuck, and Joseph L. Henshaw, to unite with 
this Committee for the purpose of making arrangements for 
the obsequies of the late Hon. Edward Everett, at the church 
in Chauncy Street, on the 19 th instant. 

The meeting then adjourned, to meet at the same place on 
Tuesday, the 17th, at 1, p.m. 

At a meeting of the Standing Committee and of members 
of the congregation of the First Church, held on the seven- 
teenth day of January, A.D. 1865, — 

Thomas B. Wales, Chairman, and George 0. Harris, Secre- 
tary, — a Committee, consisting of George W. Messinger and 
Samuel L. Abbot, appointed at a previous meeting, submitted 
the following preamble and resolutions, which were unani- 
mously adopted : — 

Whereas it has pleased the All-Wise Disposer of events to remove 
from us, by sudden death, our esteemed fellow-worshipper and beloved 
friend, Edward Evekett, — 

And whereas we wish to put on record an expression of our sense 
of the great private worth which distinguished him no less than his 
pu])lic virtues, therefore be it — 

Resolved, That by his decease the members of the First Church 
and Congregation have lost one strongly endeared to them by the 
association which has bound them together as worshippers for many 
years jjast. 

Resolved, That we gratefully recall the constant interest which 



31 



oui' departed friend took in the welfare of our venerable society, — 
an interest which he manifested to the last, by his regular attendance 
on the oiRces of the sanctuary. 

Eesolved, That we shall always hold his example in precious 
remembrance, as of one, who, while he dignified our nation, espe- 
cially in her hour of trial, by his unselfish patriotism, humanity, and 
generous devotion to the cause of republican liberty, was no less 
distinguished for the humility, purity, and Christian excellence of his 
private life. 

Resolved^ That these resolutions be placed on the records of the 
First Church, and that a copy be transmitted to the family of the 
deceased, with the assurance of our most tender sympathy in this 
hour of their heavy bereavement. 

George O. Harris, Secretary. 

It was then Voted, That the Clerk cause a copy of the 
foregoing resolutions to be published in the " Daily Adver- 
tiser," '^Journal," and "Transcript;" and, further, a Sub- 
committee, consisting of Messrs. G. W. Messinger, T. B. 
Wales, and J. Putnam Bradlee, were appointed to make the 
necessary arrangements at the church for the funeral cere- 
monies : and all proposed to be then present, and render their 
assistance on that sad occasion. 

The meeting then adjourned, to meet at the vestry, on 
Chauncy Street, at 10 o'clock, Thursday morning. 

The Standing Committee, with the members of the con- 
gregation invited to join them, convened at the vestry, on 
Thursday, as adjourned. J. Putnam Bradlee was there chosen 
to act as marshal inside the house ; and the other members 
disposed themselves as assistants, to conduct to their appro- 
priate seats the Officers of the State and City Governments, 
and of Harvard University, Judges of the Courts, Officers of 
the Army and Navy, and delegations from numerous societies 
and associations, that attended the funeral ceremonies, fillina: 
the lower pews of the house. 



32 



Sunday, Jan. 22. 

The Standing Committee met on Sunday, immediately- 
after divine service in the afternoon, and, by unanimous vote, 
requested the Chairman and Clerk, Messrs, Wales and Harris, 
to call on the Rev. Rufus Ellis, and, thanking him, in the name 
of the Committee, for his eloquent and appropriate discourse 
upon the life and character of the late Mr. Everett, to request 
a copy of the same for publication, together with his address 
on the day of the funeral, to be appended, thereto. 



Geo. 0. Harris, Clerk. 



THE 



LIFE, SERYICES, AND CHARACTER 



OF 



EDWARD EVERETT: 



% 3txman 

PREACHED IN THE FIRST CHURCH, JAN. 22, 1865. 



BY RUFUS ELLIS, 

MINISTER OF THK FIKST ClirKCH. 



Wiit\} an '^ppenliti, 



CONTAINING 



The Action of First Church on the Occasion ojc the Death ok Mr. Everett. 

AND THE Address of the Pastor at the Public Funeral, 

Xhuesday, the 19th of January. 



BOSTON: 

PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON. 
1865. 












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